


Not a Crazy Virus Thing

by onoheiwa



Series: A Kiss is Worth a Thousand Words [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Episode Related, Episode: S2e09 Croatoan, First Kiss, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Sam Winchester, Romance, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 04:43:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3277166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onoheiwa/pseuds/onoheiwa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has been infected by the Croatoan virus and rather than leave his brother to die alone, Dean stays with Sam in the doctor's office. It's a rare moment when both brothers see how much the other truly cares about them. And maybe it's because Dean knows they're about to die, but Sam sits stunned as his older brother finally gets honest with him, more honest than he ever thought Dean could be. Although, what he says isn't what Sam was expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Crazy Virus Thing

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my favorite scenes in the show - not just because it's full of feels and one of the boys cries. I think its because it shows how much the two of them care about each other. Both are willing to die for the other. And Dean... He probably thinks he can't live without Sam. I don't think that's true, Dean is strong, but here he explains it perfectly. It's not that he can't live with his brother, he could learn how to. He doesn't want to. He's had enough pain, enough suffering. He doesn't want to have to learn how to live like that, underneath that crushing loneliness. 
> 
> I think he even realizes it, even now before he sells his soul fulling knowing that its out of selfishness, not because he wants to save Sam. In a way, Dean isn't so selfless and loving of Sam as I want to think sometimes. He's selfish, he doesn't want to be lonely. I think of the look he gets when Sam tells him so far down the road that he would let Dean die, how crushed he is. He's so desperate to never have to learn how to live with Sam and wishes his brother felt the same. I think he wants Sam to love him in the same way he loves Sam, that he would do anything to stay together, keep him alive and near, regardless of the cost. Dean loves Sam like that, and I think eventually Sam loves Dean like that, but not yet. And this scene shows that a little bit, I think. 
> 
> Anyway, I suck at explaining this stuff, but it's one of those scenes that's always been one of my favorites, at least of the non-humorous type. I hope you like what I've done with it...

Dean ushered the doctor out, pushed the door closed, and turned the latch, locking the two brothers in. He turned to look at Sam with a smile already forming and Sam wanted to punch him for it, knowing what's coming before Dean even opens his mouth. His brother was going to try and play it off, act casual and normal, even though he's just resigned himself to dying, probably by Sam's own hand.

 

Sam could feel anger starting to build up, violent and and strong, as well as sadness, a rising sense of despair, knowing that he was infected - he was going to go crazy and then... who knows what would happen to all the people in this town before morning? Would they die? Go to hell? Just melt or blow away into dust? No one really knows. Either way, Sam knew he wouldn't be here anymore by sunrise and he didn't want his brother around, didn't want to turn into a monster and kill Dean before disappearing. He would do anything to keep that from happening but part of him already knew that saying so was useless; Dean wasn't planning on going anywhere. 

 

"Wish we had a deck of cards or some foosball table or somethin'." Dean took a few steps back into the room, chuckling, and stopped in front of Sam who was trying desperately to keep himself under control.  

 

His throat had gone tight once the shouting had started earlier, knowing what the others would decide about whether to stay or to leave. The tension in his body had only gotten worse when Dean had tossed the keys to them, telling them to get out. It had felt like something had clawed at his vocal cords, so he wasn't surprised at how quiet and raspy his voice sounded when he spoke, trying to persuade his brother to just let him die, to save himself. "Dean, don't do this. Just get the hell outa here." 

 

Dean just looked back at him with that infuriatingly gentle smile on his face, like he knew something that his little brother Sammy wouldn't understand. "No way." 

 

Sam could feel his face twisting up with emotion. Anger. Sadness. Frustration. Worry; fear for Dean. Mostly anger, though. Dean was being stupid, so damn stupid. "Give me my gun, and leave." He could barely contain the fury, could hear the strain in his voice. 

 

"For the last time, Sam. No." The last word had come out so soft, so gentle, but full of conviction. Dean meant that word with everything in his being, he wasn't going to leave and the insanity of it was astounding, that Dean could be so calm about his impending death. 

 

It was too much, his frustration, his desperation to keep his brother safe, the dull ache in his chest with the knowledge that he was going to die... and now Dean wasn't even going to keep on living afterward, wasn't going to try and fight to live; he was going to give up and let Sam kill him and Sam was furious with him for it.

 

It was all bubbling out of him and Sam couldn't keep his emotions in check anymore. There was something in his hands, he couldn't even remember anymore what it was that he had been twisting around, but he threw it at the floor, face contorting with his rage, words trying to spill out of his mouth but they got caught in his throat before they could make any sense, just ending up a choked, painful sound. He could feel the tears he'd been trying so hard to hold back slip out of his eyes and slide down his face. "This is the dumbest thing you've ever done." 

 

Dean had turned around to look at him during his outburst and was smirking now, a knowing grin splashed all over his face. "I don't know about that. Remember that waitress in Tampa?" Dean shivered dramatically, probably trying to lighten the mood by making Sam laugh. 

 

Sam felt all his anger, the white hot fury that had burst out of him, drain away, leaving him exhausted, nothing but tears and sadness left now. Sadness and desperation that made his voice come out pleading. "Dean, I'm sick. It's over for me. It doesn't have to be for you." He could feel his voice cracking, his vocal cords straining as he tried to keep talking past the ache in his throat. 

 

The grin, at least, on Deans face had finally vanished, only seriousness left now. "No," he said simply. 

 

"No, you can keep going!" Sam burst out. He had barely let his brother get the word out, knowing ahead of time what Dean was going to say, before he dove into his next argument, his last idea for persuading his brother:  never give up, that was the way the Winchesters worked. They fought tooth and nail through everything, dragged their bleeding, broken bodies across the cold ground to kill every last monster, to save everyone they could. And when they ran out of strength, when they couldn't keep going on any longer, they did. Somehow, they always kept going, no matter what happened around them, no matter what shit happened to them. They kept going. Always. Every time. Because that's just who the Winchesters were. And Sam thought for sure that reminding Dean of that would be enough, reminding him who they were, what Dad had taught them. He thought that telling Dean to keep fighting, like Dean always told him, like Dean always was able to do, would be enough to crack through that wall of stubbornness. Dean was a fighter, always had been. He never gave up, he never compromised. It was one of the things that both infuriated and inspired Sam - that no matter how bad things got, no matter how muddy and unclear and gray a situation was, Dean knew what was right. And sometimes he was wrong, but he was always so convinced he was right that he would follow through on what he believed all the way through to the end. Even when it was obvious that the plan was falling apart around them, his brother would keep at it, never doubting even for a second. Dean never gave up, he always kept going, had always wanted to keep going. 

 

"What if I don't want to?" Dean's voice was full of such sadness, the pain across his face was so powerful it drew Sam up short almost as much as the words themselves. He was struck silent momentarily, trying to make sense of his brother's question, trying to make sense of words he never could have imagined coming out of Dean's mouth. 

 

"...What?" 

 

Dean blinked once or twice, his eyes looking around, avoiding Sam's face. "Sam, I-" He cut off, shaking his head and gazing at the floor. 

 

"What, Dean?" 

 

Dean took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then he finally started to talk. "Look, I know that going on when the going gets tough is kind of our thing, it's what Dad taught us. That no matter what, we keep fighting."

 

Sam blinked, surprised to hear his own words coming back at him, hoping that Dean understood what he was trying to say.

 

"But Sam, that's not me. I know it doesn't really seem like it, you know. I act like I'm strong like Dad, but I'm really not. Cause the only thing that matters, the only thing that keeps me going is you." Dean had finally looked up, was staring at Sam with an intensity in his green eyes that Sam had only ever seen when his brother was staring down some monster trying to decide how he was going to attack it.

 

"It's always been about you," Dean was saying, gaze still intent. "You're  _good,_ Sam, and I wish I could be like that. I try so hard to be like you, to do the right thing. But I screw up. And you always come in and fix it, make it right like you had been telling me to do from the start. It's you that pushes me forward, to try and be better, and it's you that picks up my mess when I get it wrong. Every single time. And I- I don't know if I can do all of this without you.  I'll forget what's important, I'll screw up and get some innocent person hurt. I don't know how, but I'll get it wrong. Maybe I'll figure it out, I'll probably do okay. But you're the only thing that really makes this crap worthwhile. Not saving people, not even killing those monsters, as much as I love doin' it. It's you, being there, watching my back. I don't want to try and figure out how to live without that, without you. It's not worth it." 

 

Sam could hardly believe the words he was hearing. "Dean, no. I can't- I can't be the only thing that keeps you going, there has to be something besides me. It can't- It can't just be me." 

 

"Why not?" Dean's voice was small, quiet.

 

Sam hadn't heard him speak so gently since haas barely old enough to talk, since he was young enough that Dean would still climb into his little brother's bed and hold him close after he woke up screaming from nightmares. The surprise kept him from collecting his thoughts right away, made it hard to think while he was distracted, looking at his brother's sad,  _hesitant_ eyes. 

 

"Because... I'm just- I'm just _me_. I'm not as good as you seem to think I am. And- God, Dean, there has to be something, someone, out there better than me. You... we... can't rely on each other forever, some day we're going to be apart and we... you have to know how to deal with that, how to live like that." Sam was having a hard time articulating what he was thinking, not even sure what he was thinking anymore. Was this really all about Dean, about Dean's need for Sam? It felt like Sam's own feelings were getting mixed up with all of it too. 

 

"And why not? Why do we have to be apart, huh?" Dean was starting to look angry, his brows crinkling and voice not so flat anymore.

 

Sam was almost relieved to see something besides that infuriating smile or that deep sadness that made his chest ache, but angry Dean was almost as hard to reason with as stubborn Dean, though he would try his hardest. "Because, Dean, that's what happens. Families don't stay together forever. Kids grow up, siblings go to college and get jobs and move away from each other and make small talk at holidays and ship their kids off together to camp every summer and bitch on the phone about how their mothers won't stop whining about coming to visit." 

 

"Yeah, that's what normal families do, Sam. In case you haven't noticed, we're not normal and we're never gonna be like that! So why should we have to learn how to be apart, why should we need anything else but each other? I don't see any reason why I can't just make you the most important thing, the only important thing, and keep it that way." 

 

Somewhere in the middle of his short speech, Dean's face had switched from an angry scowl to an intense stare - face smooth of lines, jaw set, and eyes focused. All hard angles and determination.Sam found himself looking right back at Dean, their eyes locked and unable to look away. 

 

Dean got honest sometimes. Once in a blue moon he would say what he really thought or felt and it never failed to surprise Sam. His brother normally acted so careless that even though Sam knew how much Dean cared about him he was always shocked when Dean actually said something that showed just how _much._ Right now all of Dean's emotions were limited to his eyes, but there was so much there: solid resolve, the expression he wore right before a hunt - calculating, preparing, judging, like he intended to act and was trying to decide how Sam would react. But there was something buried underneath all of that, something powerful and deep and reminded Sam of how Jess used to look at him, full of love and trust. And Sam had no idea what to make of it, couldn't really move at all. It seemed like all the air had been sucked out of the room while everything waited to see what would happen next. 

 

Dean took a steep forward suddenly, surprising Sam though he was too well trained to let it show outward. Dean's movements were slow but sure and confident as he took another step and then another, stopping right in front of Sam where he sat on the table. Dean stood just outside the invisible line of space stretching between Sam's spread knees, his eyes still locked with Sam's and moving with purpose. 

 

Dean moved slowly, steadily. So slowly Sam could see what he was doing before long before he did it, reaching a hand up and pressing his palm to Sam's cheek. It was warm, calloused, strong, and Sam hand the strongest urge to turn his face slightly, brush his cheek along his brother's hand and take comfort in the touch, but he resisted. He was still uncertain about what was going on but he knew it was important and didn't want to move and risk breaking the moment. He kept his eyes focused on his brother's, a question shining on his face.

 

Dean was watching him, face empty of any kind of expression, but his green eyes intently looking into his own. And then, still moving so slowly that Sam figured out what was happening in plenty of time to stop it, Dean shifted closer. Sam had the time to move away, to speak, to do anything he wanted, but he stayed perfectly still, didn't even breathe while Dean leaned forward, hand staying in the same place against his brother's cheek, while his own face got closer and closer. 

 

Sam's breath was caught in his lungs. Everything in the room, time itself, seemed to slow and become perfectly still. He knew, somehow he knew, despite this never having happened before, never even having been hinted at, Sam knew. And in those slow moments as Dean got closer, he realized how much he wanted. He  _ached_ for it. Dean had always been more important to him than anyone else, although he had never thought about this. But now that he had, it made his pulse race, heat pool in his stomach, his nervous system going haywire. 

 

Those few seconds felt like an eternity until Dean's lips pressed against Sam's, softly, gently. Both of them still had their eyes open, Dean still looking at Sam with all that intensity and Sam looking back, wondering what Dean saw in his own eyes. Neither of them moved for a long moment, but now that Sam knew he wanted, such a gentle kiss wasn't enough. His eyes drifted closed and he slipped his tongue from between his lips to brush against his brother's mouth, holding back a moan at the velvety touch of skin and warm breath. Sam kissed his brother back, trying to convey the _want_ , to tell Dean it was okay with every slide of his tongue, the pressing of his lips. He heard Dean groan as his lips parted, letting Sam in while his own tongue came out to meet Sam's, the two of them colliding and twining together. Sam's arms wrapped around Dean's waist and side, while Dean's hands fisted in Sam's shirt, tugging the younger man against his chest. 

 

Sam felt heat and desire and contentment flowing through him, settling behind his ribcage till he felt like he could sit here kissing Dean forever. 

 

A knock on the door broke the moment. Dean jerked, tearing himself away from Sam's mouth and looked down. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes beginning to darken, lips beginning to swell. He was so beautiful Sam wanted to keep him here to himself, see him looking like that every second of every day for the rest of their lives. 

 

Sam supposed something of his thoughts must have shown on his face because Dean smirked at him before unwinding himself from Sam's arms and going to unlock the door. The doctor was waiting for them, saying there was something they needed to see. She turned around and walked back out before either of them could respond, and Sam reluctantly jumped up to follow. On their way out of the building, Sam kept stealing glances at his brother, only stopping when Dean looked back. They stared at each other silently for a moment before Dean smirked again, a chuckle escaping his mouth. 

 

"That wasn't just part of the crazy virus thing, was it?"

 

Sam's heart jumped up into his throat. "No. It wasn't."  

 

"Good. Cause I... I want that. You." 

 

Sam's mouth was dry and his heart was pounding in his chest, making it hard to form words or think clearly, but he managed to get out a gruff, "Yeah." He cleared his throat and said it again, a little softer but with more certainty. "...Yeah." 


End file.
